


Be Just Fine

by mr-im-fine (witch_lit)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Airports, Angst, M/M, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_lit/pseuds/mr-im-fine
Summary: A minor lift and a major fall





	Be Just Fine

**Author's Note:**

> yo so this fic is about 500% based on the plot of Slow Dancing Forever by I the Mighty.  
> Thank you Scout for beta'ing!

Neil jerks awake with tears stinging his eyes and no memory of his dream, Andrew’s name on his lips. 

He clutches the sheets, curling over his knees as he remembers how to breathe.

There’s a weight on the back of his neck, but it’s cold. The hair on his neck is standing up, but he’s too tired to deal with it.

There’s no one else in the bed, but then, Neil’s not too surprised about that.

He checks his alarm and sighs. It’s about time he leaves for the flight anyway.

_ Don’t go, _ a voice whispers in his ear. The blanket strains in his fist and he gets out of bed.

When he gets dressed, it’s in one of the black shirts Andrew bought. He pulls on his armbands slowly. Pants come next, one foot after another. 

Neil is so very tired, but he still flips open his phone and turns it on.

There are a couple of calls, but they’d done most of the talking last week. There’s a text from Nicky saying he and Erik just landed in Palmetto, and they’ll meet him at the gate.

There’s a voicemail from Matt, but Neil doesn’t listen to it. Probably more about the funeral arrangements.

He runs a hand through his hair and leaves their—no, his, condo. He’ll be on the plane soon enough.

It feels like molasses, leaving the condo. He pushes through what feels like a hands pushing at his shoulders to get to the door, his duffel bag under his arm. He won’t miss this flight, no matter the gruff voice telling him not to go.

The airport isn’t too busy this early in the morning, and Neil left his ( _ Andrew’s _ ) knives at home. They make him check the urn. 

He’s a little early, but not much. He looks up from washing his hands in the tidy bathroom and for a second a blond head of hair sticks in his vision.

He shakes his head. He doesn’t need this.

The plane leaves right on time, and Neil is in his seat, headed for a life he fought for with everything he had. Headed for a life he wouldn’t mind running from, now. 

He’s just being impulsive.

The flight takes off like any other, and if Andrew were here, Neil would be holding his hand and talking quietly to distract him. But Andrew’s not here, and Neil leans against the window. 

The sky is just coming alive, and Neil’s not sure if they’re chasing the sun or the sun is chasing them. He’s been turned around, the last couple of days.

The cremation center had smelled like people and must but not like smoke or gasoline. It hadn’t been reminiscent of his mother at all, and that had perhaps been the strangest of all. 

Neil closes the window.

They’re leveling off when Neil hears a terrible screeching sound and the passengers around him gasp. For a moment, there’s nothing, then the plane tilts and jerks. This is nothing like friendly turbulence.

The stewards and stewardesses look panicked. The captain’s voice filters through the loudspeaker, and the plane is going down. Down, down, down. 

_ I told you to miss the flight, _ Neil hears. He grips the arm rests and smiles.

The captain’s voice trembles as he prays over the intercom.

Neil whispers. 

I’m on my way.


End file.
